Te Rogamus, Audi Nos
by katie-elise
Summary: "Stiles, answer me, damn it, are you okay?" "It's here", he whispers back, and then it's on him, in his mouth and it tastes like fire and brimstone, and why the hell does he know what brimstone tastes like? Derek/Stiles WARNINGS: General creepiness and torture with a scalpel
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I've been getting some nice positive feeback for my Sterek fic, and it gave me the confi__dence to write this! Strongly inspired by the Demon!Stiles gifs that have been going around tumblr (particularly those by psychic-drips). I have a full outline for this (handwritten even! I also hand wrote this chapter before typing it up), so I WILL be finishing it. I already know everything that happens, and that's half the battle anyway, right?_

_Hope you like it! 3  
_

* * *

Te Rogamus, Audi Nos

Stiles stretches the rubber band back, taut between his thumb and forefinger. He takes his aim carefully, and…_ping!_

Bingo. Jackson turns around to glare daggers in his direction and Stiles puts on his best angelic 'who, me?' face. Jackson obviously isn't buying it, but it's not like there's much he can do; Stiles is pretty sure that a restraining order doesn't apply to rubber bands.

Finally Jackson turns back around, grumbling. Stiles sighs and rubs the back of his head. Detention is _seriously_ boring. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they were allowed to _read_ the books instead of just re-shelving them, and what kind of 'learning' experience is that anyway?

Glancing around for something to distract him, Stiles catches Erica's eye and she winks at him. He smiles a half-smile and turns away. Frankly she's never paid much attention to him before, and while she's definitely pretty and actually kind of cool when she's not trying to kill Lydia…well, maybe being around so many supernatural creatures has finally started to make him a little more suspicious, because he's not really taking her motives at face value.

Scott and Allison are making out the next aisle over, and voyeurism isn't exactly the sort of distraction Stiles is looking for at the moment. Isaac is nowhere to be seen, and Jackson…well, Jackson is more likely to werelizard-out at him and wreak some havoc than he is to engage in some refreshingly witty banter.

Stiles does a quick survey of the ceiling just to make sure that Jackson isn't chilling out in the rafters waiting to drop down on him, but instead all he sees is a wisp of weirdly black smoke lingering by the skylight.

Huh. That's strange.

"Hey, guys?" Stiles pokes his head around the bookshelf and attempts to pry Scott off of Allison.

"Not to break up the slobbering-all-over-each-other thing, but I think the school might be on fire". That separates them pretty effectively, and Stiles files it away for future use.

"Are you sure?", Scott says, hands lingering on Allison's waits, and it's obvious that he really wants Stiles to be wrong so that he can continue with the slobbering. It's actually a little bit endearing.

But as they all turn to look at where Stiles is pointing, it becomes evident that something is very, very wrong.

The smoke has seeped in through the window, but it's not spreading out. In fact, it's not moving at all, just…floating there in a clump. Stiles glimpses Erica peeking out from behind another stack. She looks over at him, says, "What the…"

And that's when all hell breaks loose.

* * *

Derek is sitting on the floor of the rail car drawing up some new training schemas when he gets the call. It's Erica, and immediately, before even picking up the phone, he knows something is seriously wrong.

"What is it?" he barks into the receiver. He's already shrugging on his jacket and grabbing the keys to the Camaro.

Erica's voice is shaking, _hard_, but she manages to get out a whispered description. "It looks like a black cloud of smoke, but if felt…alive, like it was looking at us. We split up, ran. We're at the school. I don't know who it went after, not me".

"I'm on my way. Stay where you are. I'm going to hang up, okay?" He tries to say it gently, tries to belie the way that worry's creeping up into his lungs.

"Okay. Derek?" "Yeah?" "One more thing…it stunk". "It stunk? Like what?" "Like…sulphur", she whispers.

Shit. Suddenly, Derek knows exactly what they're dealing with.

He drives faster.

* * *

Stiles is breathing heavy but trying not to. Who knows what kind of crazy supernatural powers this thing has? He's willing to bet that super-hearing is one of them. He presses further back into his corner.

When the cloud had started, terrifyingly fast and screeching, towards them they had all scattered. Stiles had ended up here, in the nurse's station. He has no idea what that thing was, but he's willing to bet it falls into the no-good-very-bad category.

Someone should call Derek, he thinks. Stiles isn't sure what he expects Derek to do, but calling him is really the best and only idea he has right now.

A shadow passes the fogged window of the nurse's station, and the lights suddenly flicker on and then off again. Stiles' fingers shake as he presses speed dial number 5 and holds the phone to his ear.

Derek picks up on the second ring. "Stiles, where are you?" "In the nurse's station. Derek, there's a…" "I know", Derek cuts him off brusquely. "Just stay where you are and try to keep calm. I'm on my way".

But Stiles can't keep calm, not when there's black smoke filtering in from under the door.

"_Derek_" he hisses. "Stiles? _Stiles_, are you okay? What's happening?"

Stiles is panicking, he can feel himself panicking, and shit, it's almost all through the door now, and the stench is overwhelming. The lights flicker wildly, electronics are beeping and buzzing and shaking, and oh hell, it's coming towards him. Stiles is frozen in place. Dimly, he hears Derek through the phone.

"Stiles, _answer me_, damn it, are you okay?" "It's here", he whispers back, and then it's on him, in his mouth and it tastes like fire and brimstone, and why the hell does he know what brimstone tastes like? And then there's pain, mind crushing, black-out pain, but he's not blacking out, even though it feels like he's fainting, like he's being pushed back further into his own body.

He's screaming bloody murder, he can hear himself, but he seems to have no control over stopping it. The pain has lessened and now things are mostly…fuzzy. He can see, but it's like looking through a long, dark tunnel and he can feel, vaguely, as his body rolls his shoulders and stretches without his permission. Like he's possessed, and shit, was that black cloud a _demon?_

Fear ripples through him and he hears a voice in his head laugh with malicious glee. Then he realizes that's not all he can hear; he can still hear Derek, screaming his name through the phone.

_Derek_. Derek will save him.

The voice laughs. "Oh, you want big, buff, and handsome to save you from the voice inside your head, do you?"

Suddenly Stiles wishes very, very hard for Derek to just turn around and _run_ in the opposite direction.

"Too late now!", the voice cackles, and then Stiles can feel his throat working, hear his own voice, but scratchier, lower, as he says into the phone, "If you want him back, you'd better come and get him". The line is silent, and then suddenly they can hear Derek swearing a blue streak, voice changing in a way that Stiles knows means he's wolfing out, and he's shouting threats through the phone. The last thing Stiles hears him say is "if you fucking hurt him so help me, I will rip…" and then the thing controlling him, the _demon_, shuts off his phone.

"Passionate little boyfriend you've got there", it purrs, and Stiles recoils in his own mind. "Oh ho ho, strike a chord there, did I?" And all at once there's pain, the sharpest pain he's ever felt, and it's slicing through his brain. Just as quickly as it came, it's gone.

"Ahh, so NOT the boyfriend. But you wouldn't exactly _mind_, would you? No, don't answer, all those lovely fantasies and poems about his eyes speak for themselves", and what the heck, Stiles has definitely never written poetry about Derek's eyes. The rest, however…

Stiles wishes Derek away with all his heart.

"OOoooh", the demon says, positively joyous, "this is going to be _fun_".

And with that the pain is back. Stiles tries to shut down, tries to keep all the things he most loves and fears locked in the back of his brain, but of course that's the first place the demon goes. The first fear it unlocks is his dad, dying of a bullet wound while on duty.

Stiles may not have control of his body, but he does feel a single tear roll down his cheek.

The demon notices, reaches up and catches it on the tip of a finger. It pops the finger in his mouth, tastes, and smiles. Then it walks Stiles' body over to the medical cabinet and roots around for a second, comes out grasping a scalpel. Stiles can feel his blood run cold as the demon cackles, and he gives up being the better man and prays for Derek to get here, _fast_. The demon just laughs again and starts to strip off his shirt.

* * *

_A/N: AHAHAhahahaa this was SO much fun to write! I've never really done horror, and...I like it. _

_Do YOU like it? Let me know, because you have no idea how much that inspires me.  
_

_ALSO, for those playing along at home, 'Te Rogamus, Audi Nos' translates to 'We Beseech Thee, Hear Us'.  
_

_ALSO ALSO, if you have the inclination to follow me on Tumblr, my user-name is Clandestine Gardenias, and I will probably update faster there than I will here.  
_

_See you next time!  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: GOOD LORD I AM TIRED I had to work with children today and drive like 3 hours and there were irrigation trenches involved. BUT LOOK I STILL WROTE YOU FIC, I am so good to you. _

Chapter 2

"If you fucking hurt him so help me I will rip you apart molecule by molecule", and fuck it all if the demon doesn't hang up on him. The demon that's currently possessing Stiles.

At the thought Derek feels himself changing, feels bones shirt and hair grow, razor sharp fangs press insistently against his gums. They want to rip into the demon, sink into its flesh and tear it apart, bloody and messy. The instinct is to protect, fight, live, _die_ protecting.

But the demon has no flesh of its own. Only Stiles.

Derek grips the steering wheel so tightly that his fingers leave actual impressions when he pulls away and gets out of the Camaro. Which is now parked rather conspicuously on the front lawn of Beacon Hills High.

He flexes his hands, takes a deep breath of the cool night air, and tries to calm himself. He can't fight this physically; he needs to be able to outthink it, and that means keeping the wolf at bay.

The front door to the school is locked, so he rips off the handle, and that makes him feel a little bit better. Halfway down the hallway he finds Scott, huddled under a drinking fountain.

"Derek!" he gasps, way too loud, banging his head against the drinking fountain as he tries to stand. "There's a smoke monster, I don't…it tried to _kill_ is, where is everyone, I…"

"_Scott_", Derek hisses, grabbing him by the collar. "I need you to stay calm. I need you to help me. Okay?" Scott swallows, looks like he's about to puke, but then he just nods.

"Good. The monster is a demon. What I need you to do is…"

"WHAT? A _demon?_ How do you know, oh shit,"

"SCOTT, listen to me", Derek demands, and Scott glances around wildly, like he might take off running, but then he stills, breathes deep, and looks Derek straight in the eye. "What do you need me to do?"

Derek has never been so proud.

"I need you to find Allison, Erica, Isaac, and Jackson. Get out of here, stick together. Find somewhere safe, and above all find out how to exorcize a demon. _Without_ harming the host. Can you do that for me?"

"What about Stiles?" is the first thing Scott says, and Derek gives him a look that says more than enough. For a second Scott's eyes panic, but he pulls himself together with obvious difficulty and nods. He's still scared, but he looks confident, like he has a purpose. Derek grips him by the shoulder, all seriousness, "I'm counting on you. Now go", and gives him a shove. Scott lopes off, and Derek finally, _finally_ can go find Stiles.

He opens his senses, lets the torrent of smells overtake him. He has Stiles' scent immediately, and it's so familiar that for a second the panic recedes. But there are other smells intermingling with Stiles'; something acrid and rotten that has to be sulphur, and…blood.

No. No no no. He can't be too late.

Derek _runs_, as fast as he ever has, following the nauseating combination of scents to an inconspicuous door down the third hall on the left. He can see lights flickering through the fogged glass window, and he recoils at the smell.

The room reeks of fear, death, and things that are far more dangerous and unnatural than anything Derek has ever experienced, which is saying something.

He automatically retreats a step.

But the room also smells of Stiles. His fear, his blood, and that scent that Derek has come to love, the one that is purely Stiles, the one that sometimes makes Derek create excuses to get closer, to lean over Stiles' shoulder or cuff him in the back of the head, just so he can get a better whiff.

He has to go in, regardless of what all his instincts are telling him. This is a bad room. This is death. _But Stiles is in there_.

Derek grips the door handle, breathes deep, steels himself, and slips inside as fast as he can, closing the door behind him and pressing back against it.

Stiles is sitting on a metal examining table in the center of the room, shirtless. His head is hanging down, listless and there are tiny, bleeding cuts scattered all across his torso. For a second Derek's heart jumps and he _hopes_. Because it _is_ Stiles, and he's hurt but not as badly as he could be. He still has all of his limbs. Maybe the demon just had its fun and left.

A deep, gurgling chuckle comes from Stiles' throat, and Derek's heart drops.

"So, _you're _the knight in shining armor. Frankly I have to say I was expecting someone who stank less of guilt. Maybe younger, too."

And Stiles' head lifts, his eyes focus on Derek's. They're pure, glossy black. Wet and glistening, extending from his pupil to cover his entire eye.

Derek roars, claws out, fangs dropping down, and he's crouching, circling. This…_thing_ has Stiles. He can't allow that. He'll _make_ it leave.

The fury is so strong that it overtakes every other emotion. He sees red, but there's nothing he can _do_. He howls his frustration.

"Ah, ah, ah", the demon chides shaking one of Stiles' long, beautiful fingers at him. "We'll be having none of that now". And it lifts Stiles' other hand, which is suddenly holding a medical scalpel, shit, oh hell no, and Derek lunges forward, growling his rage and his fear, and the demon jabs the blade into Stiles' forearm.

"NO. The more you let the dog out to play, the more he gets hurt", and the scalpel slides, sickly smooth, an inch up Stiles' arm.

Derek stops dead in his tracks, his anger so overwhelming he can barely think, much less change back, but the demon slides the blade another inch, and Derek closes his eyes, breathes deep, and starts the most painful transformation of his life.

His body doesn't want to change back, is resisting him with every fiber. Stiles is in danger, is possessed, and Derek _has_ to get him back, can't let him be hurt, even more so that if it were Erica or Scott or anyone, because…because…Derek doesn't let himself think it, can't have that weakness now, not when he's been forcing it back for so long. This is most definitely not the time for being honest with himself.

He forces his body back to humanity.

Glaring at the demon, hate seeping from every pore, he grits out, "What have you done to him? If you hurt him I will…"

"You'll what?" the demon sneers, twisting Stiles' face into a parody of his normal expressions. "Yap at me?"

Derek can't take it, the wolf bursts forth and he smells the blood before he sees it, the scalpel dragged all the way up to the crook of Stiles' elbow in a shallow but bloody line, sharp point resting in a gathering pool of blood.

The wolf yearns to attack, but it's also confused. This is Stiles, but Stiles is also _hurting_ Stiles, and hurting Stiles is just about the worst sin anyone can commit, according to the wolf, because Stiles is – _NO_, Derek's human side interjects, _No, you cannot think like that now, you can't give yourself away, not now_.

He forces his fangs to recede, pulls in his claws, sees the red tint fade from the world. The demon twists Stiles' face into a leering smile, and Derek tries to control his rage by clenching his fists so tightly that his short nails draw blood. He can smell it intermingled with Stiles' blood and the scent of terror that he left lingering in the room before the demon took him.

God, Stiles must be terrified right now.

The thought hits Derek like a punch to the gut; he actually staggers and his hands unclench. He jerks his head up and stares deep into the black pools of Stiles' eyes, desperately trying to find him, trying to communicate that he's here, it's okay, he's die before he lets anything bad happen.

The demon just smiles wider. "You've finally discovered something you can't protect him from", it says as it twists the scalpel, making the movement look thoughtless, and Derek's blood boils. He forcibly calms it, gritting his teeth.

"He knows you're trying to save him, by the way. He's calling you an idiot, screaming at you to run. Frankly it's starting to give me a headache." It digs the scalpel deeper, and blood runs freely down Stiles' arm and across the table. His face is starting to go pale.

"It's so _interesting_, what's going on inside this head. All those memories. The guilt, the pain…the jealousy. Hatred, too, deep down where he hopes no one will ever look. _But I have all the keys_."

Derek's claws are out, but he sinks them into his palms so they don't show.

"I could use any of it to hurt him. The dad, now there's a possibility. But, well, his father is human. Weak. Powerless. Just like his son. There's someone else who loves him, though. Someone who hides it, who would never tell him how they really feel…but who would give up anything, _destroy_ anything to save him. To keep him from feeling this."

The demon yanks the scalpel from Stiles' arm and stabs it straight down into his thigh. A deep red stain immediately starts to spread across the denim.

Derek jerks forward a step, can't control himself, reaching out towards Stiles like he can actuall have any effect, and it's then that he knows he's lost. He can only hope to hold the demon off and pray that Scott and the others come up with something brilliant, and fast.

"Oooh, don't like to see him hurting, do you lover boy?" It hops Stiles' body off the table, leacing a dusting of yellow powder behind.

It's walking, sauntering really, towards him and Derek holds himself stiff and straight as a board.

The demon gets right up close, gives him the once over, and darts Stiles' tongue out to lick his lips.

Derek breaks out in a cold sweat.

Then hands are gripping his biceps and Stiles' chest is pressed flush to his own, the deom lowering his head to press Stiles' nose to the juncture of Derek's jaw and neck, and Derek wants to push it off so badly that he's shaking, but he knows it may well cost Stiles his life.

His body and the wolf, on the other hand, are a mixture of elated and confused, because this is _Stiles_ pressed up against him and that's Fantastic, that's everything they want, but Stiles smells funny, smells wrong and bad and scared, and Stiles should never smell that way. The wolf whines, and for a split second Derek is terrified that the demon will use that against him.

But it just laughs, puffing hot air against his throat, and the little hairs on the back of Derek's neck all stand on end.

He feels soft, wet lips press against his ear, and it's simultaneously everything he's ever wanted and his worst nightmare. He shuts his eyes tight and a tear escapes to trickle down his face.

"I'll let you in on a little secret", the demon whispers, so close that every word brushes lips against the shell of his ear, and Derek prepares for the worst.

"He loves you, too"

* * *

_A/N: My favorite part is seriously how snarky the demon is. It's voice is SO much fun to write. SASS. ALL OVER THE PLACE SASS. _

_I will probably come back and change this all in the morning oh my gosh 6 a.m. why are you so early.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: A wild Chapter 3 appeared! Actually Chapter 4 is written, too, and that's the last one! So look for it either later today or sometime tomorrow. This has been a blast to write, and I hope you guys are enjoying it! I've got a LOT of alerts and not a lot of reviews, haha. So I think that still means it's okay?_

_Enjoy!  
_

Chapter 3

Scott has no idea how to exorcise a demon. He thinks that possibly it involves a priest, and the person who's being exorcized has to have their head spin around separate from their body a few times.

He doesn't know any priests, and he doesn't want Stiles' head to spin around separate from his body. That sounds like it might do some permanent damage.

None of the other seem to know, either, although they do give him a weird look when he mentions the spinning head thing, which just about confirms his suspicions. So, they're doing what any good group of teenagers would do and Googling it.

Well, that is to say, Erica is using Google, and everyone else is standing around sipping mochas and looking over her shoulder.

Oh yeah…did he mention they're at Starbucks?

Which, Scott maintains, is perfectly logical. It's not like Erica or Isaac have internet access, Allison's family would probably know what to do but would probably also care a lot less about Stiles' survival than one would hope, and Scott…well, he really can't stress his mom out any more than he already is.

He couldn't even _find_ Jackson, the dickwad, so that's a moot point.

Scott sips his mocha and has the startling thought that maybe he should try being a better friend. He loves Stiles, really, but he's _in love_ with Allison, and well, it's the honeymoon stage and all that…but those are just excuses. He really should be doing better. He resolves that saving Stiles from the demon will turn over a new leaf in their friendship, cause nothing says 'I love you, bro' quite like banishing the spawn of hell from said bro's body.

Erica leans back in her chair and lets out an aggravated sigh. Everyone turns to her and waits.

"There's nothing I can find that _isn't_ dangerous to the host, but I think our best bet is a good old-fashioned exorcism"

"Oookay, so how do we do that?"

"Well, this website lists one, but…I mean, they're all pretty long. And complicated. And _in Latin_. Plus, if you even mispronounce a word it can all go to hell in a hand basket. Literally. Well, possibly not the hand basket but you get the idea."

They sit in silence for a few heartbeats.

"Anyone here know Latin?" Scott jokes, half serious.

"No", Allison speaks up. "But Lydia does."

_Shit_, Scott thinks. They're finally going to have to tell her.

* * *

Lydia sits in her room, surrounded by her so-called friends, one of whom is currently sporting fangs, yellow eyes, and an extraneous amount of facial fair. She sighs.

"This is seriously what you were keeping from me? You should have told me sooner. God, you people"

Sure, they keep her in the dark after she's nearly _murdered_, several times she might add, all while telling her that she needs to keep quiet about it to protect Scott and Allison's little love-fest. But when Stiles is in trouble, well, _then_ they tell her. And even that's only as a last resort; only because she knows both classical and archaic Latin

It's a good think she likes them. Well, Scott and Allison at least. The other two kind of weird her out with all their department store leather.

She flicks a hair away with one perfectly manicured nail and turns to her computer, swiftly clicking away.

Finding a good demon exorcism is fairly simple, which shouldn't be all that surprising what with t.v. nowadays. Lydia is almost certain that she could memorize the whole thing, but this is Stiles' life on the line, so she grabs a pink gel pen and some flower-shaped sticky notes and jots it down.

She swings around, curls bouncing, and grabs her least favorite Marc Jacobs leather jacket, cause this shit could get messy. Besides, Lydia Martin _always_ dresses the part.

The group, or pack she supposes, is staring at her in part horror, part admiration. They look like particularly unfashionable statues, just frozen like that.

"Well, don't just stand there gawking, let's go exorcize a demon. The sooner we get this done with the sooner I can get back to teaching Prada sign language. Come _on_."

And she sashays out of her room, leaving them speechless in her wake, which, of course, was always her intention.

* * *

Stiles is pressed so close to Derek that his body is actually throbbing from the pressure, and under any other circumstances that would be unbearably hot.

But, as it stands, Stiles is bleeding out and also light-headed, even though he's not sure he's actually _in _his own head in the first place.

The demon has been, until this point, been presenting him with an endless stream of mental images, flashing them across his brain so that he has no choice other than to watch them unfold.

He's seen his dad die in more gruesome ways than he could have previously imagined, and Scott, Allison, and Lydia have all made guest appearances as well. Stiles is going to need some serious therapy, if he gets out of this alive. He's also never letting his dad out of his sight again, even if it means _he _has to become a police officer.

But ever since Derek got here, the visions have been of a different nature. They're alternately terrifying and titillating, vacillating wildly from scenes of Derek possessed and ravaging the town, unable to stop himself, to Derek and Stiles tangled up hot and sweaty in Stiles' bed, hands and mouths everywhere and damn it all if the demon doesn't add a bit of 3D sensory experience to those ones. If Stiles' hadn't lost so much blood he'd probably have a _supremely_ awkward boner right now.

It's like the most heady, addictive pleasure he's ever known but spliced in with a physical and emotional pain so profound that he ends up begging in his own head, pleading with the demon to stop, only to be rewarded by scenes he'd much rather the demon wasn't third party to.

It's agony, worse than the scalpel, because Stiles will never get over the feeling of Derek, all skin, shaking apart in his arms followed by Derek being viciously killed by his own father after being possessed and killing half the population of Beacon Hills. He can't let that happen, can't let the demon get to Derek because so many people would die, or become werewolves and the Derek will be gone and no one will know what to do, and _Derek would die_. But before that he would have to experience the slaughter he'd brought down on the town, and Stiles just can't…he _can't._

So he offers himself. He pleads with the demon to stay in him, tries to use logic, tells it he has access to guns and ammunition, he tells it he'll hurt people. He doesn't tell it he'll hurt them so Derek doesn't have to. The demon is intrigued, although not in the way Stiles' had hoped.

It starts rooting around in his head again, and it feels like nothing so much as a particularly angry, rabid hamster has been let loose in his skull. A hamster with a taste for brains. Haha, zombie hamster. And that's when Stiles realizes that he's _really_ lost too much blood, here.

Images flash by, and they're all of Derek, which isn't a surprise, but the nature of them is. Before it was all sex and desire, but this time…wait, Stiles has seen these somewhere before. There's Derek at the bottom of the pool as Stiles swims down to get him, and there he is sitting in Stiles' Jeep, smiling…these are his memories. Not just random scenes the demon has conjured up, but real solid memories, and all of the times…they're all of…_oh shit. _Not that, _anything _but that, but it's too late now.

The demon leans Stiles body in, and that will never not feel invasive and wrong, and brushes Stiles' lips against Derek's ear. Stiles can't let this happen, because _he _wants to be the one to tell Derek, and he puts every ounce of effort into shutting his mouth for a change, but the demon slips past him like he isn't even there and whispers, "He loves you, too".

Stiles doesn't really understand the 'too' part, until he does.

Because Derek's face just drops, stunned, and a hundred emotions flash across his face. There's surprise, fear, terror, but also a longing so intense that Stiles' toes curl, and with it a tiny flare of hope.

And somehow, that gives him the strength he needs.

He _slams_ forward, forces the demon to the back of his head, and feels a short rush of smug pride as he stares at Derek through clear brown eyes.

Then all at once the world is static, and the only feeling in it is pain. It's stunning, sharp and insistent, radiating from the crook of his right elbow, which feels like it's been flayed open with actual flaming knives. He gasps and his legs give out, eyes rolling back in his head, but someone catches him, and he remembers that he's still in Derek's arms.

"Derek", he mutters, but it comes out so soft and garbled that he's afraid Derek won't hear. But he does.

"_Stiles? _Stiles, is that you? Can you hear me? Are you hurt?" and it's all coming out in a terrified rush. Stiles manages a nod, and he can feel the responding tightening of Derek's arms around him, the rush of air he lets out, shaky.

He feels the strange sensation of sinking, and Derek must have gotten them on the ground somehow, because he's pretty sure he's in someone's lap, head resting listlessly on their shoulder. It's hard to tell, though.

There are lips pressed to the top of his head, and Stiles manages to tangle his fingers in Derek's shirt. Derek, who's trembling so badly that Stiles' body is shaking, too.

"You can't…" he attempts, ready to convince Derek that he needs to get out, _now_, that if he doesn't leave Stiles here the demon will take him instead. He _needs _to leave Stiles here.

But Derek interrupts him, shushes him with a voice that sounds utterly broken, and murmurs platitudes into his skin, things like 'it'll be okay', and a low, fierce, "I won't let it hurt you", punctuated by a constriction of his arms around Stiles that's a little too tight for comfort, but Stiles isn't complaining. "Scott's working on it," and there goes Stiles' hope for salvation, but he's probably got Allison to help him focus so okay, maybe, "He'll find something, please, just hold on, you can't die on me, I won't let it happen. I won't let it happen".

Derek sounds desperate, and Stiles knows the situation is bad, knows he probably won't make it out alive, and there are things he still needs to say, _fast_, because he can feel the demon starting to pull him back.

So with a supreme effort he lifts his head, looks at Derek and can't help but _see_ Derek, how he looks demolished, eyes pleading with him to fight, to stay.

"If I die," he starts, and Derek presses a finger to his lips with a stern, almost angry "_No"_, but Stiles keeps going. "Tell my dad I love him and I'm sorry, and just watch out for him, okay? Oh, and, also", he continues, suddenly nervous, which he shouldn't be because the demon already said it, "umm, about that thing…I mean, that it said. I, I do, I mean, I l- " and he's silenced as Derek leans in and kisses him.

Stiles sucks in a sharp breath and then goes with it, because this might be the last chance he gets.

It starts out soft, and he can _taste_ the sorrow, taste it in the salty tears that mingle between their lips, and then it gets deeper, like they're being pulled together, and why was this ever something they resisted in the first place? It's slow and wet and sad, and it's the sexiest thing Stiles has ever done, which just figures considering how he's about to die. He just can't catch a break.

They start kissing harder, faster, desperation building as tongues slide slick against lips and teeth, and there's so much need, so much left unsaid, and they're kissing like this is the first and last, and the blood loss really isn't helping the dizzying effect, so Stiles just clutches Derek tighter.

And finally they're gasping apart, breathing ragged and heavy, and Derek is kissing him _everywhere_, from his forehead to his nose, his jaw, frantic with his affection, trying to fit it all in to the little time they have left, and Stiles can't hold on anymore, can feel himself slipping. Just before he loses consciousness entirely he feels the demon take over and bite down on Derek's lip so hard that the bitter tang of blood fills his mouth.

Well, he thinks, it was _awesome _while it lasted.

_A/N: Ahaha, I freaking LOVE Lydia. Also this chapter was a little rough the first time around (I've been handwriting everything and THEN typing it up), but as I typed it somehow I started to edit things and it came out better than I was expecting. YAY FOR FIRST AND SECOND DRAFTS!_

_And if you can't wait for me to post Chapter 4, it's over on my tumblr at clandetinegardenias.  
_

_Thanks so much for reading!  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Sorry I couldn't incorporate some of you guys' great ideas, but it was already written! Also sorry it took awhile to post, tumblr is eating my life and so is work. BUT HERE IT IS and also as a consolation prize I'm putting up another Sterek one-shot I wrote yay. _

Chapter 4

All Scott can think of is how confused the janitorial staff is going to be in the morning when they come in to clean the school and the halls are lined with salt.

Frankly it looks kind of like some giant decided to do a line of cocaine in a pattern that just so happens to encircle the nurses' station.

He finishes his section and leaves his Morton's container where it lies, empty, hoping that it'll be enough to tip off the janitors that they don't need to call in the FDA, and heads down to join the others.

_"Te rogamus, audi nos, te rogamus, audi nos," _Lydia is murmuring incantations under her breath as she flips through her sticky notes. She seems a little shaky, not quite as confident as she was back in her room. Scott's surprised it took this long; even for how well Lydia took the news (and he really never expected anything else), _anyone_ would freak out over finding out werewolves exist, as do demons, oh and by the way several of your friends _are_ werewolves _and_ you're the only one who can exorcize a demon currently occupying your friend's body.

If Lydia wasn't freaking out just a little over that, Scott would be seriously worried for her sanity.

He trusts her to do this, though; trusts her implicitly. She may not always have been the best to Stiles, and there's little doubt in Scott's mind that she's never reciprocate on his crush, but when push comes to shove he knows that they can count on her to do this and do it right. She's ridiculously smart, and more compassionate that she lets on.

The plan is pretty simple, now that they're got the salt circle all set up. They planned it out so that it's a decently large circumference, primarily to try and avoid the demon noticing what they were doing. That was actually supposed to be the hard part.

Scott's not sure if the fact that the demon's too distracted in there to cotton on to their admittedly shaky execution is a very good thing or a very bad thing.

On the one hand, Stiles might be fighting back, or Derek might be distracting it…but on the other hand it could just be having too much fun slaughtering them both the care about whatever else is going on outside.

Scott desperately hopes for the former.

In any case, now that they've got their demon trapping circle all set up, the rest is pretty straight forward. They'll burst into the nurses' station, Lydia will start in with Exorcism #1 to get the demon out of Stiles' body, the demon then makes a run for it, becomes trapped by the salt, and they run after in hot pursuit. It can't fail.

Scott's favorite part of the plan is how Isaac is going to carry Lydia so that if/when they have to run after the demon she doesn't get too out of breath to say the exorcism, or stumble over any words. Scott himself came up with that, and feels mighty proud of it.

Lydia stops muttering, takes a deep breath. "I'm ready". They sneak up to the door, Lydia leading the charge…and slam it open, Lydia talking faster than she ever has in all her life.

Derek isn't sure how much more of this he can take.

The demon is walking Stiles around the room, opening cabinets at random and using whatever's inside on Stiles like he's a living pin cushion. He's currently sporting a syringe sticking out of his arm, some incredulous cartoon bandaids, and a splash of hydrogen peroxide that's making the cuts on his chest bubble and hiss.

At least they won't be getting infected. Of course, that won't help very much if he's dead. Derek is just praying that Scott gets back before the demon finds the cabinet with the pills in it.

And while watching the demon stick whatever it can find in or on Stiles is absolute agony and makes containing the wolf take every ounce of control Derek has, what's almost worse is what the demon is _saying._

It's dredging up every memory Stiles has of Derek and describing them in detail. It ranges from Stiles oogling Derek's abs in his room to realizing he has a crush on him for the first time.

All of it is stuff Derek wants to hear, but not now. Not like this.

He wants to hear it whispered in his ear, soft and sleepy as they lie tangled in bed. Wants to hear it screamed in anger in the middle of a stupid fight. Wants it breathless in-between kisses, silent in a glance from across the room, in the feeling of fingers intertwined with his own and wet on a pair of lips.

At this point, Derek knows what the demon wants. It wants him to give himself up, to let it ride him and take control of the wolf. Of course, the demon doesn't have to ask, could just take him right now, but it doesn't.

Derek can only imagine that it's part of some sick game, getting him to, essentially, ask the demon to put the town to death, or worse. It wants him to beg it to possess him. It's sick and Derek _can't_, because he could cause so much damage, so much more than a normal human, and that's just what the demon wants.

He can't do it, he won't do it, and if he just tells himself that enough times maybe it will be enough…

All of a sudden there's a huge bang as the door bursts open, and Derek's pack, _his pack_, is suddenly crowding into the room.

It's color and noise and activity, and _Lydia_ is there of all people, yelling a jumble of words so fast it makes Derek's head spin.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas"_ she screams, and Stiles body starts to shake and twitch. After the last few hours, it's too sudden and too much, and Derek hides his head in his hands.

Which is a good thing, as it turns out, because all at once there's a blinding light and a terrible screeching sound, and when Derek looks up there's a gigantic cloud of black smoke streaming out the door, and Isaac scoops Lydia into his arms, what the hell, and they take off hell bent after the demon.

Leaving just Derek and Stiles in the mutilated nurses' station.

_Stiles_.

All at once Derek is on his feet, scrambling to where Stiles is crumpled unmoving on the floor. He's unconscious, and Derek takes the opportunity to yank the syringe out of him and grab the scalpel from his hand, throwing them across the room with so much force he's pretty sure they actually impale the drywall.

He gathers Stiles into his arms and tries to breathe.

Stiles' heartbeat is slow, so Derek immediately notices when it shoots up and starts going like a jack hammer.

"Hey, it's okay, I've got you. Scott came though, they're after it right now".

Stiles looks up at him with those huge brown eyes, and Derek sees trust blooming there. It affects him more than it should.

Stiles nods, accepting his words, and leans his head against Derek's chest with a groan.

Derek knows he should be getting up, getting Stiles out of here, but he has to know. Stiles almost said it earlier, but Derek stopped him, kissed him so he wouldn't say it. He wants to kiss him again, now, God he wants it, but first he has to know. Without the demon's influence, without the threat of imminent death. So he steels himself and asks.

"Was it true?"

"Stiles wiggles his nose into Derek's chest, like he can hide there. "What, the part about me admiring your abs, because I mean _anyone_…"

"Stiles."

"…yes", and it's small and embarrassed, scared and hopeless, and it's just so Stiles to not have confidence in the fact that _Derek_ kissed _him_, that possibly he wants this too.

Derek tries another tactic. "There's a reason it didn't go for your torturing you in front of your dad, you know"

"Because you're more powerful. It wanted to control the wolf".

"Yes, it wanted me so that it could have destroyed…so much. It could have torn a hole in the world."

""Well then it's a good thing you didn't let it."

And here it is, the moment of truth. "I was about to."

Stiles' head snaps up, and he's glaring at Derek, and angry accusation on his kips, which is quickly replaced by confusion and then astonishment. "You…" and Stiles is on him, lips pressing in insistently and arms wrapped around his neck, and I's the best thing Derek's ever felt because they're not going to die, this isn't just last minute desperation, it's a start, a hope, a beginning.

Stiles is astonishingly enthusiastic for someone who's just undergone hours of bodily possession and torture, and Derek is losing himself in the building heat, in Stiles' soft lips and eager tongue, his long fingers which have somehow gotten down the back of Derek's shirt, and it's a real testament to how far gone he is that he doesn't hear the other arrive until someone clears their throat with obvious intent.

He breaks away from Stiles with a soft 'pop!' of their lips, and once again big brown eyes are staring up at him, dazed and lazy and happy. Derek really does need to get him to a hospital.

He turns his attention to the rest of his pack. Scott and Allison look unharmed, though out of breath, Erica is disheveled and has salt in her hair, and Isaac is just letting Lydia down from his arms. All of them are covered in a fine yellow dust and smell of rotting eggs.

Lydia has some black goo on her jacket and looks pleased as punch. She's also the only one who doesn't seem surprised to have caught Derek and Stiles making out in the middle of a blood splatter on the floor.

"That fucking rocked" she proclaims, as the others wilt around her. The smile on her face tell Derek that they're not going to be rid of her as easy as all that.

The look Stiles gives him says the same thing, and Derek can't help but lean in for another kiss.

Umm, could you not do that, with all the blood and the…yeah", Scott says, and Derek thinks that he actually may have a point.

So he scoops Stiles up, with only minimal protestations, and follows the others out into the night, trying to come to terms with the uncomfortable sensation that he owes Lydia Martin until the end of time.

The End


End file.
